


Nobody Praying for Me

by LadyFogg



Series: Angel with a Shotgun [11]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Angst, Cave sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Hell, Language, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6298744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and John fight through Hell, trying to get to the center with the hope of finding a way back home. Or at the very least, taking out as many demonic bastards as you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I'm going to start pulling in a little bit of the earlier Hellblazer comics. Mainly because I've only read through the first 50 or so issues so far. Don't worry though. For those who haven't read the comic you won't get lost!
> 
> Fic Song: https://play.spotify.com/track/3bq8WiQrEXMwPAibYs7tpu

Bare feet slapping against smooth stone as he runs, John rounds the corner of the crumbling wall in front of him. Tripping slightly, he hits the wall harder than he intends, knocking the remaining wind out of his lungs. He tries to catch his breath, using the dilapidated structure to hide from his pursuers. Their footsteps aren’t far behind; they’ll be on him any second.

John pants, looking around wildly for somewhere to disappear to. The structure he’s in can barely be called that. One wall and a few slabs remain of whatever it used to be, and while John is curious about its origin, he doesn’t have any time to waste. He touches the stones around him, hoping to find a loose boulder or hidden opening. But it’s no use. There’s nothing and he’s cornered.

“Bollocks,” he mutters.

The movement is getting closer and John tries to hold his breath to keep from making noise. He slinks into the furthest corner and waits. Suddenly, the footsteps stop and an eerie silence falls around him. John frowns, deciding to chance a look around the wall.

The demons that are chasing him are gone.

With his frown deepening, he takes a few steps forward, checking the other side of the wall. It’s empty. There’s not a soul or demonic presence in his line of sight. As soon as he takes another hesitant step, a growl erupts behind him. He spins around and then he’s surrounded by demonic creatures, crawling out of the ground from every angle.

“You thought you could outrun ussss,” one of them hisses. It could be said it was once human. It certainly has human-like features, but years in Hell have twisted it into a grotesque monster. Bulging, red eyes, scaly skin and a forked tongue shows the nature of its mortal crimes.

John smirks. “You have no one to blame but yourselves really. Trying to make me believe I was going the right way when I wasn’t. Can’t hurt a guy for trying to escape your grasp,” he says.

“Yesss, we can,” the thing says. “You have essscaped usss for too long. You’ve killed our brothersss. You ssshould never have made it this far. You will not get further. Just wait for what we have in ssstore for you.”

There’s the quiet sound of stone crunching above him and John glances up with a slight smile. “Mate, if you think I’m bad,” he says, looking back the demon. “You should meet the missus.”

You cock your shotgun and jump down from the wall, landing next to the leader. His head explodes when you shoot it, leaving behind a bloody stump of a neck and a flailing body. It drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes, before disintegrating into a mass of bubbly, acidic flesh. Thank you enchanted bullets.

You jump to John’s side to avoid the mess, cocking your gun again and pointing it at the other demons.

Now that their leader is dead, those following him screech and begin to scamper away, trying to escape your destruction. They don’t get far before both you and John hit them with blasts of ice from your palms. Freezing them is the only way to kill them without worrying about their poisonous blood. That, and it angers them. They scratch at the frozen areas of their bodies, howling in pain.

“You wanted to end this,” you tell them. “So don’t be pussies. End it.”

Goading demons should be listed as one of your special skills, because you certainly have a knack for it. The demons hiss and come after you again. You hit the nearest one with the butt of your shotgun as John knocks another clear off its feet with a single punch. It takes only a few more seconds of physical fighting to determine it’s time to pull out the big guns, in a manner of speaking.

You sling your gun over your shoulder and press your back against John’s. Instinctively, he links his arms with yours and you both send demons flying off with a kick. John starts chanting and you join in immediately. The demons hear the words and know what’s coming a second before it happens. They attempt to stop you by trying to overtake you with their vicious screams.

You and John are quicker, however. You finish the incantation and let the magic flow freely out of you, hitting the demons with an icy blast. Their limbs begin to grow heavy with icicles, weighing them down as they hurry to crawl away. They try to claw at the ice again, but it’s too late. The spell covers them completely and a few seconds later, all five of them are frozen in place.

John’s arms slip from yours and he goes to the nearest demon, giving it a swift kick. It shatters, leaving behind frozen chunks of flesh. The acidic blood is also frozen, so it doesn’t spread like the leader’s did. It won’t until they thaw, but by that point you’ll be long gone.

“Next time,” John says, glancing at you. “You be the bait.”

“But you make such pretty bait,” you tell him with a grin.

John gives you a look while trying to hide a smirk. “Be that as it may, it's your turn,” he says.

He’s tired and you're not surprised. Those bastards were chasing you for nearly two months. At first they pretended to be showing you the way, but of course you both knew better. Once it was clear you weren’t falling for their tricks, they grew angry and ever since it had been a mad dash to get away from them.

It's nice to finally get a moment to catch your breath; before the next wave of terribleness comes your way, at least. Story of your life. A quick scout of the area shows that you and John are alone. You must be in one of those pockets between levels; areas where the monsters and demons rarely travel.

“Let’s go,” you say, reaching out for John. “We’ll call it a night early. We’ve fucking earned it. There's a cave a little ways from here where I stashed your bag. It'll be a good place to camp.”

John takes your hand. “Alright then,” he says. “Lead the way.”

You link your fingers with his and begin to walk down the uneven, sloping path. Your bare feet are practically numb to the hardness of the ground. Shoes had been abandoned once you realized the demons could hear your footsteps. Your jeans had been torn into shorts long ago and both your coats had been stored in John’s bag once the heat proved unbearable. John’s tie is currently tied around your upper arm, preventing the fresh wound there from bleeding.

John falls into step with you, his shoulder bumping yours every so often. You can feel the exhaustion shared between you two. His is more potent at the moment so you transfer some of your energy to him, trying to create a balance. His steps become surer and he casts you a grateful look.

It's been a year. A year since you’ve been trapped in Hell.

The only way you know this is because of John's watch. John had enchanted it shortly after your arrival to help keep track of the days. The enchantment is still going strong. If it wasn't for the device you would have no concept of time.

There's no sky, which means no sun or moon; no soft breezes or cool nights either. Just tons of rock surrounding you and gross, oppressive heat. When you were closer to the surface, you hated looking up and seeing stone. You’re too far down to see it now, but it still makes you claustrophobic knowing there’s no opening. What you wouldn't give to look up at the stars.

“You're disappearing into your head again,” John says.

“Yeah, I know,” you say. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize, love,” John tells you with a wave of his hand. “Just share what's on your mind.”

“I miss the sky,” you confess.

John nods knowingly. “I miss smoking,” he says, making you chuckle. “And I miss whiskey.”

He had run out of cigarettes pretty quickly and had been a nightmare about it. It was bad enough you were stuck in Hell, but having to deal with someone going through nicotine withdrawal had been torturous. He is slowly getting better, but there are still days where he struggles.

“I miss proper food,” you add. “God, even some of your eggs would be wonderful right now.” You miss waking up after a night of vigorous sex to the smell of breakfast cooking. Well, more accurately you miss the normalcy.

“If you're fantasizing about my cooking, we're worse off than I thought.”

You laugh. “I love you.”

John's chest puffs out slightly with pride and his smile widens. “Back at you, love.”

You continue walking down the path, choosing to fall silent. The structure John had hidden in is part of a larger wall it seems. You walk along it for some time before you come to a place where the path drops into a steep slope. Instead of following it, you lead John to the right and through a collection of dead shrubs.

The cave is tucked away, hidden from the path. It had taken you forever to find, but you're glad you did. You’re not sure why it’s there. It looked like it may have been the den of some creature in the past, but as far as you can tell, it’s been empty for some time. It's not a very deep cave, though it is tall enough for you to stand in. Not only will the cave hide you from any wandering demons, you and John won’t have to sleep in shifts.

Once inside, John puts a protective ward on the entrance. You draw out a blanket from his bag and spread it on the ground before collapsing onto it.

“I miss our bed,” you lament.

John smiles and comes over to lay down next to you. “Same,” he says, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “I miss seeing you stretched out naked on it.”

“You still see me stretched out naked all the time,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but not clutching our bedsheets while you writhe underneath me,” John purrs, lightly headbutting you.

“Oh fair point. I miss that as well.”

John smiles and draws you against his chest. You close your eyes and bask in his presence before the pain in your rib makes itself known. You wince and shift uncomfortably, not wanting to leave John’s embrace, but needing desperately to relieve the pressure on your chest.

“We should take care of that,” John says. “And your arm.”

“No I'm fine. We need to save our energy,” you say. “No unnecessary healing, remember?”

“Love, you're in pain,” John says. “That's a perfectly good reason.”

Ever since you and John learned how to turn your healing powers on and off, you have been saving it for dire situations. Having it on all the time was taking more energy from you than you realized. With the lack of proper sleep and nutrition, energy was a precious commodity. John has been able to summon drinkable water, but food wise you’ve had to make due with roots and the occasional dead hellhound. After John purified it of course.

Even still, you find you’re both in a relatively good headspace considering. At least, one of you hasn’t had a complete meltdown yet. Though you have been close to one on several occasions.

You wonder if it has to do with being together. You can’t imagine what state you or John would be in if you were alone. Your magical connection has been your saving grace. Physically, magically and emotionally, it strengthens both of you to the point where you rarely block each other out anymore. There’s really no reason to and you realized that it hindered your magic. Being open to each other meant your magic was at full strength.  

“Not tonight,” you say. “We have to finish your rune and that means we’ll need the healing for you.”

John grimaces. “Ugh, you had to remind me.”

“Yes I did,” you tell him. “Actually, come on, let’s get it over with and do it now. Shirt off.”

John makes a face, but sits up to do as you instruct. “Having a bird tell you to take your shirt off in such a defeated tone really puts a damper on your confidence.”

Chuckling, you sit up as well, pulling his bag over and extracting your knife. Along with a couple new scars, John also sports a few of your runes. They are some of the more powerful protection and anti-tracking ones that have saved you over the years. If you are protected, it was only fair John be given the same courtesy. Especially considering your current situation.

However, since there are no tattoo parlors in Hell, you’ve had to improvise.

“Make it fast,” John says, rolling his neck from side to side as he tries to release the tension from his body.

“That’s what she said.”

John smirks, casting a look at you from over his shoulder. “Not usually...oww!” He breaks off into a whimper of pain as the tip of your knife digs into his skin.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you say, continuing the rune carving on John’s upper back. After a few minutes you add, “You’re holding your breath. Let it out.”

John does as you instruct, shoulders trembling from the pain. He keeps instinctively jerking away from the blade, so you inhale sharply before you draw his pain away from him, taking all of it for yourself. The trembling lets up and John begins to breathe properly. Now it feels like someone’s dragging the tip of a knife along your shoulder blade. You grit your teeth and continue carving, working in silence for several long moments. Dizziness forces you to pause a few times, but you push through it.

“Talk to me, love,” John says. “You’re too quiet. You need to keep talking.” When you don’t respond, he asks, “Remind me again, what do you want to do when we get back?”

You take several calming breaths. “We still have to take that vacation,” you force yourself to say, narrowing your eyes as you try to focus on the rune instead of the pain. “Caribbean resort.”

“Mmm, yeah,” John sighs dreamily. “I like the sound of that. Cool breezes, bright sun, blue ocean, free drinks, nude beaches...”

You chuckle. “Exactly,” you agree. “I really like the thought of you in a tiny speedo.”

“Maybe after we fatten up at the buffet,” John says. “How’s it looking back there?”

“Just about done,” you say. You finish the carving and put the knife down, before using your thumb to trace the cut with his blood. You say the incantation and the rune glows for a moment before his blood seeps back into his skin. “There.” You place both hands on his waist and let your connection heal the new tattoo until all that remains is a red jagged scar in the shape of the rune. It’s a little crude looking but it’ll have to do.

You let his pain return to him slowly before you feel your own energy drop. You unexpectedly slump forward, resting your forehead against him. John places his hands over yours before he turns around fully to look at you. You crawl into his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Lola, you’re pushing yourself too much,” John says. “And know I don't use that phrase lightly.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” John sighs. “I can feel that you’re not fine. You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Neither of us are fine. I’m not ashamed to say I’m bloody exhausted.”

“But if you’re tired, I can’t be,” you say. “What good is it if we’re both exhausted?”

“Love,” John says, pushing the hair back from your face as he makes you look at him. “Where the bloody hell did you get that from? Of course we’re both allowed to be drained. We’ve been at this a year. No proper sleep or food. I’m not expecting you to stay strong. No one is.”

“I am,” you sigh, leaning into his touch.

John lets out a heavy exhale before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll draw us a bath, yeah?” he says, dropping the subject. It would only lead to arguing and the last thing you want to do is fight right now. Not when you finally have a chance to catch your breath. “There’s a shallow pit over there, it’ll be perfect. Some nice cool water. Wash up. Maybe do some recharging.”

You grin. “You mean sex.”

John grins back, “If you’re up for it. Until then, lay down. I’ve got this.”

You nod graciously and stretch out on the blanket, getting rid of the tie around your arm. You examine your cut and it seems to have stopped bleeding for the moment.

John conjures up a large block of ice and sets it next to you. The coolness feels great and you gravitate towards it while he moves to the corner of the cave. You watch him work his spell, concerned with how thin he looks. You’ve also lost quite a bit of weight, but not as much as him it seems.

As if a reminder of your hunger, your stomach gives a twist and you fight the urge to be sick. John glances over at you worriedly, but you wave him off. You sit up once more and pull his bag over, digging through it until you pull out a small satchel of roots. You munch on one as John finishes drawing the bath. Now that you have a free second, you take the time to go through your case of ammo. Two shotgun shells. That’s all you have left. You shouldn’t have used one on that demon. But he just pissed you off so much. You put the ammo back and your hand finds one of John’s crumbled business cards.

You snicker.

“What’s so funny?” John asks, giving you a quick look.

“‘Master of the Dark Arts’,” you read. “You really have to change that.”

“I know, I know,” John says with exasperation. “I take it you have suggestions?”

You think for a moment. “How about…‘John Constantine, Bisexual Human Disaster’?”

“Oy!” John points at you. “I am not a human disaster.”

“Oh I’m sorry, ‘THE’ bisexual human disaster.”

“...that’s better.”

You giggle at his reaction and shake your head lovingly. John finishes filling the pit and kneels by your side to offer you a hand up.

He helps you out of your tattered clothes and eases you into the pit. The water is warming rapidly, but the initial coolness feels wonderful. John strips off his torn trousers and shirt before he slides in next to you. You move through the water and into his open arms, resting your back against his chest. John holds you close, enjoying the intimacy of the restful moment. They are so rare, you have to take advantage when you can.

The pain in your rib eases and you realize that John is healing you. “Damn it, Constantine,” you scold, watching the cut on your arm knit close. “What did I say?”

“It slipped,” John says with a smirk.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Lola, I can’t let you sit here in pain when I know I can make it go away,” John tells you. He runs his hand down your healed rib. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you grumble with annoyance. It does feel much better. You can't blame him, since you’ve done the sneaky healing to him multiple times.

“Just relax,” he coos in your ear before gently nipping at his initials. “Let Johnny take care of you.”

He begins to massage your shoulders, the pads of his thumbs digging into the knots at the base of your neck. You moan with relief, your head falling forward as he works away the soreness. Your body slowly relaxes with every rub and stroke. It hurts slightly, but once the knots are gone and he moves on to another spot, the dull pain gets better.

John’s hands drift down your arms, then to your hips. But they don't stop there. They glide under the water and along your thighs, showing his true intentions. Not that you didn’t already know that’s where this was headed. It has been awhile since you last touched each other sexually. He gives your thighs an appreciative squeeze before lightly dragging his nails along the soft skin.

Despite the shudder of longing, you place your hand over his. “Not right this second,” you say. “Let’s just rest for a bit.”

John squeezes your thighs once more, before settling against the rock. “Whatever you say, love.”

The silence between you two is comfortable. With no distractions other than survival, you’ve pretty much covered every topic you can think of. So most nights are spent resting and just enjoying being with each other.

Despite the fact that you should be relaxing, you can’t help but let your mind wander to your situation and what you’re moving towards. You’ve seen some shit the past year, enough to give you nightmares for the rest of your life. Which makes your end goal all the more terrifying.

“What do you think is waiting for us down there?” you ask.

John shrugs. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” he says. “Obviously a demon of some kind. Probably the thing that started all of this. The last circle of Hell is reserved for the worst of the worse. And if we need its help to get back, it will try to make a deal of some kind.”

“Of course,” you say with a heavy sigh. “God, I’m so tired of all of this, babe. So, so very tired.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

You wallow in your situation for a few more minutes before John’s mouth descends to your shoulder. He drags his lips across your skin, hands traveling up your waist to cup your tits. You whimper softly, your mind focusing on him instead of the darkness around you. You melt into his touch as he gently kneads your tits with his coarse hands.

“I never thought I’d say this,” you mumble. “You’re too good to me.”

John chuckles. “I feel as though I should be offended by that,” he says. He considers your words. “But in retrospect, I don’t blame you.”

You grin and rock against him as you feel his cock starting to swell against your lower back. He returns the motion with rocking his hips into you and squeezing your tits tightly.

“Easy,” you gasp when his thumbs tweak your nipples a bit too harshly.

“Thought you liked it rough,” John teases. “I seem to recall a particularly entertaining evening where your bed frame broke.” He lets go of your tits to move your hair away from your neck.

You laugh softly at the memory. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” you say. “Mmm, good times.”

“We did have a number of those,” John says.

“That we did. But back to the roughness,” you tell him. “I’m in the mood for slow tonight.”

“Well that’s a first.” His mouth is light against your neck, making you shiver.

You draw away so you can turn to face him, straddling his waist. “Don’t think I have the energy for anything else,” you admit.

“I was only teasing, love,” John says, cupping your cheek. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell Johnny what you want.”

“You inside me,” is your answer.

“That can be arranged,” John smirks. You lean in to kiss him, but he stops you. “Let me look at you first.”

You frown. “Why?”

John admires you for a moment, his lips twitching upwards into a slight smile. “Because you’re easy on the eyes,” he says. “And because I like looking at you when I do this…” His hand slides between your legs unexpectedly, forcing a gasp out of you.

Eyes falling close, you focus on enjoying the feeling of his finger slipping into you. You expect John to kiss you; you know he wants to. However, instead he leans back against the rock, his arm snaking around your waist as he holds you in place. His fingers set a steady rhythm, while his thumb draws circles around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you writhe against him.

You can’t help but moan, silently urging him to kiss you. When he still doesn’t, you open your eyes to find him smirking broadly. You smirk back.

“Give us a kiss then,” you mock.

His deep laugh is rewarding and immediately silenced when you take the kiss from him. He fingers you at the same slow pace he started with as you rock into his hand. You place your hands on his shoulders, giving them a rough squeeze as you hum with appreciation. His cock twitches again between your legs and when John withdraws his hand, you rub your slit along his length.

“On my list of places to make love,” John gasps. “Hell was not one of them.”

“And yet,” you say, sinking onto his cock and forcing a groan out of him. “The first time we fucked, you were positively delighted.”

John’s hands fall to your hips and he holds you in place as he works himself into you with small thrusts. “To be fair, you were too,” he says. “Made me take you on that rock formation right at the exit of the second level.”

“That’s because—” You grunt when you find yourself seated in his lap with him buried to the hilt inside of you. “—it was funny to fuck in front of those assholes.”

“You really are bloody marvelous,” John groans as you start to move up and down.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Ta for that.”

Speaking eventually ceases as carnal desire takes over. The pace is steady and careful, just like you asked for. With the angle you’re at, you can feel every inch of his cock and you use the feeling to forget about the world around you. John’s kisses are intoxicating. You find your head spinning by the time he pulls away to catch his breath. But you chase him for more. His lips curl into a smile against yours.

The water splashes smoothly around you two, making you feel almost weightless.

The longer you ride him, the more you feel your magical energy returning. Your body begins to tingle from the sensation, adding another level of pleasure to the experience. Breathing becomes difficult for John so he breaks your kiss, dragging his teeth lightly along your jaw. He pulls you as close to him as he can, speeding up his thrusts slightly.

“Tell me again,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” you say instantly, with a grin. “A year later...and it still makes you...fuck me harder.”

It's true. Every thrust is as deep as it can be now, but he's kept the slow pace.

“I love you,” he says in response. You can't help but clench around him and moan. “And you still cling to me when you hear the words.”

You clench yourself around him again and it's his turn to moan. Kissing becomes a necessity once more, especially when you feel your orgasm building. You place your hands on the rock behind John, using it for leverage.

Your magic is almost fully restored. You can feel it surging through yourself, then through John, then back to you. Like it’s on an endless path and eventually you lose track of whose magic is whose. It all becomes a haze of pleasure and energy.

“Sing for me, pretty bird,” John urges before placing open mouthed kisses up your throat. You lean your head back to give him access and surrender yourself to him and your orgasm.

_“John!”_

He comes inside of you shortly after, your name spilling from his mouth among a collection of swears. You slump forward, boneless and completely satisfied. John pets your hair, letting the fingers of his other hand trace patterns up and down your spine.

Magical energy restored, you enjoy the high with a lazy smile. Until a leg cramp brings you crashing back to reality. “Oww! Shit!”

You float off of him so you can stretch yourself out. Unfortunately, the cramp gets worse as you start to flex your foot in an attempt to make it stop.

John helps massage the pain out of your calf. “Proper food will take care of those cramps when we get back,” he says.

You can’t help but feel irritated by his words. “Are we fooling ourselves, John?” you ask. “We keep talking about what we'll do when we get back. But what if we don't get back? What if we’re stuck here for good?”

“We will get back,” John assures you.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s us,” John says. “It’s sort of our thing. And we still have much to do.”

“Like what?”

“Live our lives for bloody once.”

The cramp eventually eases away, leaving your calf sore. John lets your leg slip from his grasp. You smile and glide towards him until you're practically in his lap again. You lean close, giving him the softest of kisses before drawing away to submerge yourself completely under the water. After washing your face and most of the dirt from your hair, you climb out of the bath.

John remains where he is, humming with appreciation as he stares at your body. He reaches out to grab any bit of skin he can. Which just happens to be your ass. He gives it a resounding smack. You shove his head playfully to the side before standing up straight and stretching. You feel much better than before, but still tired.

Magical energy being restored didn’t necessarily translate to physical energy. Some sleep would help get you back on track. At least you hope. No matter how much sleep you get, it never seems to be enough. You don’t bother drying off as you shuffle over to the blanket. The heat will dry you quickly.

You kneel down to touch the fabric. There’s a beat and the blanket thickens to resemble a mattress. It’s not as comfortable as a real mattress, but it’s better than laying on the ground. You hear the water splashing signalling John getting out.

You’re already laying down when he spoons up behind you. He pushes your wet hair out of his face before trying to get comfortable. His arm drops over your waist, pulling you in as close as he possibly can.

As you both shuffle to get comfortable, you can feel the question he wants to ask. You’re not surprised. You haven’t spoken about it in a few days.

“You want to hear about her again, don’t you?”

John tenses. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

You smile, bringing his hand up to tuck under your chin. It’s never too much trouble for you to talk to him about his mother. After years of trying to find her, he now knows he never will. Not with magic at least. You’re not sure if he’s comforted or discouraged by the fact. He told you how Zed had met her years ago, when they first started working together and before she became an angel. But he hadn’t expanded on how or how he processed the information.

It had taken him a long time to forgive you for keeping such information from him. It took even longer for him to ask you to elaborate on your time together.

“She reminded me of you, a lot,” you say. “The way she spoke at least. She also had terrible language.” John chuckles. “She would come every once in awhile, bringing us small presents or food. She and I would talk for hours when she visited. Though, now I can’t really remember everything we talked about. You mostly. She always told me her death wasn’t your fault. That there were complications—”

“With me and my brother.”

Regurgitating the talks you remembered had been quite the process, especially since there had been so many. His dead twin had been a difficult conversation to have, but you felt he should know. Of course that meant that there was yet another person John felt responsible for killing. He hadn’t taken the news well and you know he still thinks about it. But that’s not the purpose of the talk. He made you feel good so you want to make him feel good.

“You have her laugh. I don’t think I ever told you that,” you say.

“Do I?” John asks, pleased with the information.

You chuckle. “Yes,” you say. “And her sense of humor, believe it or not.”

“And were...were they close?” He rarely asks about your daughter so the question is a little surprising.

“Thick as thieves,” you tell him. “You know, it’s strange that even in Heaven, even when you weren’t there, you were still with me. I didn’t realize it until now.”

Sadness envelopes you as you picture the daughter from your Heaven. You haven't thought about her in weeks, but now she's the only thing you can think about. Sometimes it’s hard to remember her features, and you hate yourself for it. You close your eyes and try to remember her face, but it’s fuzzy at best. The tears come easier in Hell, or maybe you’re just too tired to hold them back.

Sensing your heartache, John begins to hum softly. The sound is comforting and you impatiently wipe away your tears as you try to focus on the tune. It makes you smile, even though you don’t recognize the song. He hums and sings to you quite often. In fact, most nights you can’t fall asleep unless he does. But the name of this particular tune escapes you.

“Where is that from?” you ask him through a yawn. “I always fall asleep before asking.”

“It’s mine,” John says. “Have I failed to mention my punk rock days?”

At first you think he’s joking, until you look back at him questioningly and you realize that he’s completely serious. Four years in each other’s lives and you’re still learning new things about him. Granted, it’s nice to learn something positive for once.

“Hold up…” you spin around in his arms to face him. “You’re serious? How have you not told me this before? You were in a band?”

“That do anything for you?” John asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes. “Answer the question, numb nuts.”

“Aye, I was in a band. Mucous Membrane. We were rubbish,” John tells you. “Only had one record. Mainly did it to get laid, which we did.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised,” you tell him. “That’s...that’s something, John.”

“Hush you,” John scolds.

“What? Why? I didn’t say anything.”

“You had your ‘I’m judging you’ tone.”

“I’m always judging you,” you tease.

“I know. That’s why I’m so familiar with the tone,” John says in a deadpanned voice.

“While we’re opening up, you wanna finally talk to me about you hitting on Chas?” you tease.

“No, I bloody don’t want to talk about how I was drunk and hit on my best mate,” John huffs.

“Come on, I need details for...reasons.”

“Look, you wanna have a wank to thoughts of me and Chas, be my guest. I’m not going to stop you. But I’m also not going to help you either,” John says.

“You’re no fun,” you tell him.

“I’m loads of fun!” John sounds offended. You just love getting a rise out of him. Sometimes it’s so easy. “Now, stop taking the piss and get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. Not about me and Chas. About anything else.”

You snuggle against his chest, still snickering. He’s not off the hook by a long shot. You haven’t even began teasing him about his band’s name. Regardless, you’re tired and sleep has been tugging at you for hours. You’re ready to give in, even if the nightmares come. They almost always do nowadays. Even still, you give one final giggle. “You, in a punk band.”

“Oh yes,” John says. You can hear feel the smile against your temple. “Had the leather pants, spiky hair and everything.”

“Do...do you still have those pants?”

A sleepy chuckle answers your question before he can. “Aye, I still have a pair. Keep them for special occasions. And I already know what you’re thinking. Yes, I will model them for you when we get back. I’ll model the whole outfit.”

“Finally, a _real_ reason to make it out of here alive. To see you in black leather pants.”

“Only if you return the favor,” John argues.

“Deal.”

John places a kiss to your forehead. He starts to hum again and you find yourself smiling once more. Wrapped in his arms with his chest steadily rising and falling under your cheek and his hand coming up to take yours, you feel safe. Despite being in a cave close to the center of Hell.

He coughs unexpectedly, jarring you and forcing you to sit up and readjust. The dust and heat is murder on the lungs. For John it’s worse than it is for you, considering his years of smoking.

Eventually he stops and you two settle against each other one last time. John continues where he left off with the song, except this time he puts words to the tune. “Love, adventure, death and glory,” he sings softly. “The short goodbye, the whispered story…”

You’re asleep before he finishes the rest.

_You’re back in that chamber. Locked in John’s mind as he fades away right in front of you. Turning towards the assailant behind you, you raise your shotgun, ready to take out the demon and free John’s soul. But this time when you pull the trigger, nothing happens. You try again, but still the gun doesn’t go off. The demon grabs your foot and you try to hit it with your gun._

_But when you do, the darkness explodes and envelopes you, dragging the air from your lungs, clouding your senses and dragging you down..._

_All you see is darkness. You can’t speak. You can’t scream. You can’t move anymore._

_As quickly as the darkness comes, it’s replaced by blinding white light and you find yourself in a room. You can move again, but it’s no use. You’re too sluggish and weak to do much._

_The walls feel like they're closing in around you and the only exit is on the other side of the room. You try to run to it but your legs are made of lead and no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t go faster._

_Your lungs are on fire as you start to cough, spitting all over yourself. No, not spit. Blood. You’re coughing up blood and bits of flesh, drowning and choking at the same time._

_The door starts to close. But it’s not a regular door. It’s a giant, metal vault door and it slams just as you get there. You beat on it with your fists hoping someone will help you, blood spewing from your mouth as you yell. Someone has to hear you. Anyone..._

“Lola? Lola! Wake up, lass!”

You don’t realize the ringing in your ears is you screaming until your eyes fly open and you recognize your surroundings. You sit up, gasping for breath, your world spinning as you try to figure out if you’re still asleep or not. Your stomach lurches unpleasantly and John turns you just in time for you to dry -heave over the side of your makeshift bed. Your stomach twists and it happens again, until your body eventually gets the hint that your stomach is already empty. John’s hand is rubbing your back soothingly as he pulls your hair away from your face.

“It’s alright, love,” he says softly. “It was just a dream. I’m right here.”

Your stomach stops being angry long enough for you to grab John’s arm and pull it around yourself, forcing him to embrace you tightly. He goes through with the motion, holding you close. Throat on fire and tears streaming down your face, you try to remember to take deep breaths.

“Was it the nightmares again?”

You nod in response to his question, your movements jerky from the rush of adrenaline. A wave of calmness washes over you as John forces you to lay down with him. When he makes a move to get up however, you cling to him with a whimper.

“It’s alright, love,” he assures you, stroking your arm. “I’m just going to get you some water.”

Reluctantly, you let him go. He pulls a chalice out of his bag and whispers an incantation. Your hands are trembling when you reach for the cup, but John helps you drink. The water is ice cold when it goes down and you immediately feel your body relax. It washes away the terrible taste in your mouth and stops the shaking.

Once the water is gone, you place the chalice on the ground. John opens his arms and you practically crawl onto his lap, wrapping yourself around him tightly. John strokes your hair, letting you come back to yourself. You take several deep breaths before you’re finally able to speak.

“They’re happening more frequently,” you croak, voice hoarse from screaming.

“It’s almost every day now,” John says. You’re touched he’s been keeping track.

“It’s so jarring,” you tell him. “I’m in that chamber and then I’m somewhere completely different. Sometimes, if you don’t wake me up in time, I even get thrown back into the chamber. Back and forth, over and over again. I can’t even begin to make sense of what it all means.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make a dream charm for you?” John asks. “I know you’ve been reluctant up until now, but it’s not getting any better.”

“Maybe tonight,” you tell him. “I don’t think I can handle another round of this. How do you not have nightmares? I feel like you should be having them too considering everything you’ve been through.”

“I took care of that awhile ago,” John says.

“Did you use the same charm?” you ask. When John nods, you frown. “Dreams are a way for your subconscious to process what’s happening in your life. They can’t just go away. The spell is only suppressing them. That’s not healthy.”

John shrugs. “I don’t seem to be having a problem with it.”

You hold back a snort. That’s highly debatable.

“When did you do the spell?”

“Shortly after you died,” John says. The implications of his words are not lost on you. Though, it does provide you with some insight. “Why do you ask?”

You sigh heavily, annoyance and anger rising to the surface at an alarming rate. “You dumbass,” you snap. “Did you ever stop to think that the charm is warped because of our connection? That I might be having your nightmares? As well as my own?”

“No, that’s not possible,” John immediately denies.

You fight the urge to hit him. Of course he doesn’t think it’s possible. Because how can the great John Constantine’s spell go wrong?

“Anything is possible,” you tell him. “You used to slip into my dreams before the cruise. We share every emotion and feeling. We can even picture where the other is when we concentrate hard enough. Your subconscious was probably suppressing the dreams for months before I came back. I had messed up nightmares back then too, remember? It’s probably why you’re not going crazy. I’m the one processing everything. You just get the benefits!”

John’s face falls into a look of shock and realization. “Bollocks,” he grumbles, running a hand through his long hair.

“Damn right, ‘bollocks’,” you say. “You’re the one who taught me that all magic comes with a price. You have to lift the spell and deal with your own dreams. Before my mind explodes or some shit.”

John’s reluctant. You can tell. He doesn’t want the nightmares any more than you do, but he also loves you. Now that he knows his little charm is directly causing you trouble, he can’t let it continue.

After a few moments of internal debate, he sighs heavily. “Yeah, alright,” he grumbles. He sits up and reaches across you for his bag. He digs around for a moment before he pulls out a small crystal. A quick hit with the chalice and it smashes into tiny pieces. You feel the hair on your arms stands up and a brief rush of air, signaling the spell’s release. It’s like a weight has been lifted off your chest and for the first time in awhile, you are able to breathe a little easier.

“There,” John says. “That should help.”

You can’t hold back sigh of relief as he settles back down next to you and pulls you against him. You try to quell his apprehension with several gentle kisses.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up at him with a small smile. His unruly hair has fallen into his eyes and you reach up to push a few curls away.

He turns his face to nuzzle your hand, placing a soft kiss on your palm. He’s not upset that you made him destroy the charm, only worried about the nightmares. “Don’t mention it, love.”


	2. Chapter 2

You try to go back to sleep, but can’t seem to manage. The dream pretty much made you a nervous wreck. After awhile you give up. Instead, you lay curled into a ball, letting your anxieties and fears get the best of you. John is unsmiling as he stares at the cave ceiling. You already know what he’s thinking without having to ask. You can practically hear the names floating through his head.

_Lola, Chas, Renee, Geraldine, Cheryl, Gemma, Anne Marie, Ritchie, Judith, Jim..._

Over and over again he says the names to himself. You recognize each of them from various stories he’s told.

“Why do you repeat those specific names?” you ask in a quiet voice.

It was an unspoken rule between the two of you that you never asked about something you overhead in the other’s thoughts. Hearing each other in your head doesn’t happen often. Sometimes it’s a word or a phrase. Usually you did what you do in most situations, which is pretend like it didn’t happen. But you’ve heard his list enough times now that your curiosity is peaked.

“Every morning, before I get up,” he says. “I think of all the people I care about...and then I picture them dead. So when it inevitably happens, I’m prepared.”

It’s a sad realization and you try to hold back the feeling of pity, but you can’t. John senses it. You feel his annoyance and anger in response. Sliding your arm around his waist, you tuck your head under his chin and snuggle in closer.

“When did you add me to the list?” you ask.

He buries his face in your hair. “When you left me four years ago,” he answers.

“And when did I make it to the top of the list?”

“When I saw you on the cruise.”

The tension in the air is too thick for your liking. You have to break it. “It was the bikini, wasn’t it?” you ask.

John chuckles. “It certainly helped.”

He’s still tense, you try the one thing you know will snap him out of it. “Will you stop feeling upset if I let you hold my boob?”

Laughter bursts out of him unexpectedly, jostling you as his chest shakes. “Bloody hell, woman,” he gasps between laughs.

You grin and glance up at him. “I’m not hearing a no,” you say.

John laughs harder, eventually dissolving into a cough as his lungs run out of air. You’re laughing too as you pull away to grab the chalice, refilling it with the spell John had taught you. He sits up and accepts the cup, still half-chuckling, half-coughing.

“What time is it? Do we need to get up?”

John checks his watch. “It’s after seven,” he says, putting the chalice down. He leans against you, hand trailing up your arm as his fingers ghost across your skin. “We can stay a bit longer. We’re almost at the center and I’m in no rush to see what other horrors await.”

You naturally fall into his touch. “We should just get up,” you say, despite the fact that staying tangled in bed with John sounds like a wonderful idea. “I doubt I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Well, I don’t want to get up yet,” John tells you. “Come now, love. Lay down. Maybe give us a quick snog.”

You roll your eyes and give him a playful slap on the cheek as he wraps his arms around you tightly and forces you to lay down once more. You try to settle in, but you can’t seem to get comfortable. Any small noise makes you twitch and want to sit up.

“I’m so jumpy,” you say. “Every time I have that nightmare I feel like my blood is boiling.”

“Well let’s see if we can get that blood boiling for a more _pleasant_ reason, ey?” John purrs, nose brushing against yours as he leans in close. “You think you’re up for it?”

“Someone sure is,” you chuckle as you feel something press into your stomach.

“That’s actually my hand,” John smirks, fingers gliding across your skin as he traces your hipbone. He wets his dry lips with his tongue, but he’s so close that you can feel it. Without thinking you lean in for a kiss. John follows through with the motion, molding his body along yours. His hand leaves your hip to cup your cheek. He cradles your face as if it’s made of glass, and you realize he’s purposely being gentle with you. His tongue snakes back out of his mouth to explore yours and you let him, sighing with contentment.

You try to lose yourself in the feelings he’s stirring, instead of the hell that surrounds you. It’s easy when he’s kissing you like it’s a necessity; like he needs your kisses to breathe. John strokes your hair back from your face, tangling his fingers in the locks.

“Lola,” he sighs as your lips part briefly. You smirk, letting your teeth drag down his bottom lip coaxing him forward. John whimpers, practically attacking your mouth. You reach up, worming your hand under his arm so you can cup his cheek. He used one of your knives to shave several day ago and the stubble is rough and uneven. But you’re used to it by now and don’t mind the scratching against your hand and face.

He practically wraps himself around you, slinging his leg over your waist and tightening his hold in your hair.

“Holding me pretty tight, aren’t you?” you chuckle, drawing away as much as you can manage.

John trails that sinful tongue of his up your neck. “I can hold you tighter.” The tip of his tongue circles your earlobe before he gently bites down.

You moan as you lean into the action. “Kiss me harder,” you order, nuzzling the side of his face. “I want you to keep kissing me until neither of us can breathe. I love how you kiss me. It’s like you can’t get enough.”

He chuckles deeply, releasing your earlobe to pepper kisses along your jaw. “Aye, I can do that. Your mouth is intoxicating,” he tells you, bringing his other hand up to thumb your bottom lip. “So talented, so _delectable_.” He groans and kisses you again, tongue gliding past your lips to chase the taste of you.

Between his hands gripping your face and his leg wrapped around you, you’re at his mercy. Powerless to anything other than let John devour you. Your fingers rake through his tangled hair, gripping tightly and giving the curls a sharp tug. His cock twitches against your thigh and he kisses you harder. Your chest presses to his, allowing you to feel his heart racing alongside your own.

“When we get back--” John gasps between kisses.

“Shh, just kiss me.” You cut him off as he tries to say something else. You’ve played this game before and you’re tired of it. You don’t want him to promise you things he may not be able to deliver.

“Lola--”

“No.” You don’t want to talk.

But evidently John does because he pulls away. “Yes,” he says. He strokes your cheek. “Lola, we aren’t going to die down here. I won’t let it happen.”

“John,” you say with exasperation. “We’ve been through this. Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“And I told you I won’t,” he says. “I just want you to know, that when we get back, I will take you to the loudest bar, order you the largest burger with the tallest drink, and then rent a room in the nicest hotel where we will spend hours ravishing each other’s bodies until exhaustion overtakes us.”

You smile despite yourself. “Yes on the burger,” you say. “And the hotel. But no on the bar. Last thing I want to do when I get back is be around a bunch of rowdy, drunk people.”

“Alright then, love,” John says with a crooked smile and a nod. “It’s a date. A proper date.”

“Fuck,” you swear. “That fucking smirk.” You lunge for him.

However, the ground shakes violently and you and John separate with twin looks of concern.

The shaking happens again and this time you both scramble to get out of bed. You and John race out of the cave, naked as the day you were born. You meet no monsters or demons, thankfully. You’re too focused on the rumbling under your feet.

You peer over the edge of the wall, down into the center of Hell. The doors of the black castle are opening. John grabs your hand as a particularly sharp tremor nearly knocks you over.

“We have to go now,” John says, pulling you back towards the cave so you can collect your things. “Don’t know how long those doors will remain open. This may be our only chance.”

“Don’t you want to know _why_ they are opening?” you ask as you follow him.

“Less concerned with the why,” John says. You both enter the cave and he immediately heads for his clothes. “More concerned with how we’re going to get down that wall.”

“We’ve circled that whole thing and there’s no ladder or stairs,” you say. “We’ll have to climb the rocks.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” John says, pulling on his pants. You start to dress as well. “Well, more dangerous than what we’re normally used to.”

Once your clothes are on and your stuff is packed away in John’s bag, you sling your shotgun onto your back and the two of you head out once more.

John pulls his belt from his bag so he can slip it through the handle and secure it around his waist. “How do you want to do this, love?” he asks.

You touch the lowest part of the wall, testing the sturdiness of them. They don’t even budge as you look over the edge. “There are holes all over this wall. We should be able to use them to get down.” You climb up onto the wall, glancing back at John when you feel his apprehension. “What?”

“I should go first,” John says, climbing up on the wall next to you.

“Why?”

“I can test the rocks, help talk you down,” he says.

“I can do the same thing,” you tell him. “Besides…” You slip your arms around his waist, bringing him close enough for you to nip at his bottom lip. You slide one hand down to cup his ass, making him smirk. “I like watching your back just as much as you like watching mine.”

He kisses you one more time, tongue swiping yours just once before you pull away. “Be careful,” he warns.

“Always.” You kneel down and John helps you over the edge as you feel around for a solid place for your foot. When you find one, you give John’s hand a squeeze and slowly start to maneuver your way down the wall.

John peers over the edge, watching you intently, occasionally scanning the area around him to make sure there are no surprises lurking. When you get a few feet down, he starts to follow you. There are no snarky comments or flirty words. In fact the only time you speak is when John almost steps on the wrong rock.

The main thing you notice is that the air gets noticeably colder the further down you get. While you are glad to finally be rid of the oppressive heat, you can can’t help the shivering that takes hold of your body. Several times it makes it difficult to hold on and you have to pause to collect yourself.

By the time you reach the bottom, your arms are trembling and your legs are weak. When you touch solid ground, the world suddenly spins and you can’t help but collapse.

“Lola!”

There’s a loud thud and a swear, and you realize John jumped the rest of the way down in order to get to you. “I’m fine,” you tell him, trying to sit up. “Just dizzy.”

“Now hang on a minute, just rest,” John urges, preventing you from trying to stand. “We look like we’re safe for now.” He sits next to you, arm slipping around your shoulder.

You both stare across the vast frozen lake in front of you. The castle looms ominously in the distance, though that you’re closer you realize it doesn’t look like any castle you’ve ever seen before. You’re not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you, but you dare say it almost looks like the castle is moving. Not much, just enough to make you blink rapidly and shake your head. You close your eyes, burying your nose in John’s neck and inhaling his scent. It’s comforting and helps the pounding in your head.

“What’s your plan?”

“Invisibility runes from this point on,” John says. “We can’t afford any delays. If those doors close, we don’t know when they’ll be open again. And I’m not waiting another year down here.”

“That’s going to drain us,” you tell him. “We’ll need to recharge as soon as we find a hiding spot inside.”

“A quickie inside the center of Hell,” John says with a smirk. “Oh the places you take me, Lola.”

You chuckle. “You act like you’re joking but you totally are at half-mast right now,” you tell him.

“Thinking about sex with you will do that,” John says. “How are you doing?”

The dizziness has passed and you allow yourself to open your eyes. “I’m better, but I will take my jacket now,” you tell him.

You get to your feet. John struggles to do the same. When he manages to right himself, he pulls your jacket out of his bag along with his own. It feels good to see him in his trenchcoat. It’s almost like he looks complete. He catches you staring and smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You stick your tongue out at him childishly before activating the rune on your palm.

“Take one more look,” John smirk as he activates his own invisibility carving. “Before this pretty face disappears for a spell.”

“Same to you,” you tell him. Just to tease, you slowly open your shirt and you watch as John’s eyes follow the path down your neck and to your chest. However, you disappear before he can get a look at your tits.

“Oh, you are so mean, love.”

He reaches out for you and you take his hand as he too starts to disappear. Now you’re at least visually cloaked from your enemies. You hesitate for a moment before stepping on the frozen lake to test it. The ice doesn’t give away underneath you and you hear John take a few careful steps before he starts to pull you along.

Trying to keep your eyes focused ahead proves to be a difficult task as you start to notice bodies sticking out of the lake. Some have their arms wrapped around themselves, while others look like they froze clawing at the ice. All of them have eyes and mouths opened wide, stuck in a silent scream for all eternity. None of them move. The closer you get to the castle doors, the further in the ice the bodies are buried.

The shuddering in your body increases with each step and not even the reassuring squeeze of John’s hand is enough to quell the fear.

The doors come up quicker than you anticipate, and just as you’re about to sigh with relief, there’s a sudden cracking noise. John’s hand is yanked away from yours. You look around wildly and spot one of the bodies moving. Its hand is closed around what you assume is John’s ankle as it tries to drag him under.

Without hesitating you shoot fire at the beast. John’s invisibility flickers for a moment, just enough for you to see him reaching wildy for you. You’re able to pull him to his feet as the body retreats back into the ice.

“Bloody hell,” John says. “Remind me to watch my step.”

The sound of ice cracking erupts all around you. More bodies start to move and stretch their limbs. The fear you’ve been trying to keep in check comes bubbling to the surface.

“Sweetie,” you say. “I think we’re both going to have to watch our step.”

“Run?”

“Yuuuup.”

Hands linked firmly together, you and John take off in the direction of the castle. The ice beneath your feet is suddenly jagged and unstable. It only gets worse as the creatures around you become more and more aware of your presence. A particular large piece of ice catches your foots and you stumble, nearly falling. Unfortunately, you roll your ankle in the process, slamming your body into John’s as you struggle to remain standing.

Flashes of John start appearing before you and you realize that your energy is draining fast. To make matters worse, the doors begin to close.

“No!” John laments.

It doesn’t take long for the rune to wear off completely, and by then more bodies are coming for you. John slings your arm around his neck, trying to get you to the door as quick as he possibly can.

“Run ahead,” you urge him. “See if you can hold it open. I’m slowing us both down.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He ducks out from under your arm and makes a beeline for the doors. You hurry as best as you can, fighting through tears as you are forced to put pressure on your hurt ankle. Clammy, boney hands grab your leg and you go down hard on your knee. You kick back frantically, scrambling to get to your feet. Your barefoot connects with a frozen skull, making your heel explode with pain. They start to drag you away.

“LOLA!” John yells. He is holding the doors open as best he can, but they are still closing.

“John! Your arm!”

John manages to lift his right sleeve where a crude carving of a chain circles his bicep. He reaches towards you as you reach for him, summoning what’s left of your combined magics to pull the enchanted chain from him. It hurts John like a son of a bitch. You find yourself crying out as well as the pain is reflected back on you. Regardless, you manage to catch the end and wrap it around your hand.

The next thing you know you’re yanked from the bodies and are flying towards John. He lets go of the doors to catch you. Unable to stop yourself, you slam into him, pushing him backwards through the doors just before they close shut.

You both lay in a tangled heap on the ground, trying to catch your breath and recover from the pain.

“Well that was something,” John pants.

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” you gasp, trying to keep yourself from throwing up. “We need to recharge and heal.”

“Aye, but could you maybe get off me, love? You’re crushing the family jewels.”

With a weak chuckle you roll off of John and take a moment to just lay on the dirty ground. However, the strangeness of the doors in front of you makes you squint and take a closer look.

“Are those...ribs?”

John gets to his feet. “Yes, they are,” he confirms, reaching down to help you. “Best not think about it.”

“This isn’t really a castle, is it?”

“Lola, we need to keep moving.”

You shudder as you get to your feet. The world spins again but this time it doesn’t stop. Your vision starts to tunnel.

“Lola, Lola?!” John’s voice fades away and everything goes black.

When you come to, John is cradling you to his chest, stroking your cheek. “Welcome back,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“Ugh, what happened?” you ask.

“You passed out,” John says. “Too much magic, not enough sleep.”

You try to sit up, but John holds you tighter. “Whoa, easy there, my love. It’s okay. Nothing seems to be coming for us so I think we’re safe for now. Whoever designed this place obviously didn’t intend for anyone to pay them a visit.”

You curl into him, burying yourself into his chest. “Let’s hope there’s a way back home,” you mumble.

John runs his fingers through your tangled hair before tilting your chin up so you can look at him. “We didn’t make it all this way for nothing,” he tells you. “I’m going to get us back.”

You lean up for a kiss. He deepens it almost instantly and you feel your magic start to heal your ankle. But it fizzles and doesn’t finish the job.

“Fuck,” John mutters.

“That does seem the only way to heal me,” you tease.

“Lola, you are in no state to be getting frisky,” John says. Which is extremely accurate. You can barely move. John digs through the bag that is luckily still secured around his waist. “I have enough energy left to enchant these roots. Should help recharge you a bit.”

It takes several tries before he can get the spell. But he manages. You force yourself to eat the roots, trying desperately not to throw them up. What you wouldn’t give for a proper meal. Your ankle starts to feel better and you feel some of your magic recharging. It'll be slow, but it's better than nothing.

Once you can move properly, you sit up fully on John’s lap. He rubs soothing circles on your lower back. Partially healed and recharged, you and John share weak smiles at each other.

“I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” you respond. “Thanks for these. I think my ankle is good. You ready to move on?”

He nods reluctantly. “Let’s go see if anyone’s home.”

You and John get to your feet. You think about loading your gun, but you know it wouldn’t do any good against whatever you’re about the meet so you decide against it. There’s really nothing you can do but take a deep breath and start walking in the only direction that’s available.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you mutter.

“We’re in the very center of Hell, poking around inside the literal belly of the beast,” John says, eyes scanning the area in front of you for any signs of trouble. His hands are poised to spellcast, should anything jump out at you. “Be concerned if you didn’t, love.”

“You don’t,” you call him out. “Have bad feelings that is. Which means you’re either so desensitized from what’s around us that you literally give zero fucks. Or, you have some sort of idea which particular demon we’re going to be facing. Knowing you as well as I do, I’m going to go with the latter.”

“I have a hunch on who it might be,” John says. “I just hope I’m wrong. Because if we’re going to find who I think we will, he already hates me.”

“Who the hell in all the universes doesn’t by now?” you snap with annoyance.

“You don’t.”

“Well I’m working up to it, especially if you keep withholding information from me,” you say. “You know, last night when I asked what you thought we might find in here, that would have been the perfect time to bring up what you know.”

“Didn’t want to worry you prematurely,” John says.

“Which leaves me completely unprepared for what we’re up against,” comes your retort.

“You two bicker like an old married couple.”

The voice comes from a chamber in front of you and instantly makes your blood freeze in your veins. John feels your fear and places a comforting hand on your lower back again. It doesn’t help. Too nervous for words, neither of you respond at first.

Several moments go by before the voice speaks once more, “I know you’re there. No need to be shy. Especially not you, John Constantine.”

The two of you share a look. John gives you a reassuring nod before he squares his shoulders and gently leads you into the room.

A man sits in a high back chair, placed in the middle of the room. The walls of the chamber feel like they’re closing in on you, contracting and expanding at a steady rate. It’s enough to remind you exactly where you are. Not that you need a reminder.

The man is dressed entirely in black, which makes his nearly translucent skin stand out even more. He casts a look of disdain as you come to a stop a few paces shy of his throne. You don't need to ask who he is. John provides you with the answer: _the First of the Fallen_.

“I see you accepted my invitation,” the First drawls. At your questioningly looks, he adds, “The doors. I opened them when I sensed you were close. Wanted to know if you did intend to pay me a visit. It seems I was correct.”

“I don’t know if we should really thank you,” John says. “All things considering.”

“It would be rude if you didn’t,” the First says, his tone bored. “However, I know who I’m dealing with so I won’t hold my breath...so to speak. I was surprised to see you, Constantine. I wondered who was causing destruction in my kingdom.”

“It’s not entirely yours though is it, mate?” John asks. “Speaking of, where are your better halves?”

You send a warning vibe his way. This is one demon you don’t think you should be taunting. John sends you a wave of reassurance.

“Busy,” the First says sharply. “It’s no matter. They don’t need to be here for me to collect your souls.”

“Hey now,” you say, finding your voice. “What’s this about collecting souls?”

“I assume that’s why you are here,” the First says.

“You assume wrong,” you tell him before you can stop yourself.

John’s hand on your back flexes slightly in warning. He wants you to let him do the talking. Normally you would tell him to shove it. But you’re in no place to argue at the moment so for once in your life, you stop talking.

“We just want a way home,” John says. “And we know you have the power to make it happen.”

“I see,” the First says, sitting up excitedly. “You want to make a deal. Your lives in exchange for your souls.”

“Dude, no one’s giving up their soul,” you tell him.

“And we aren’t dead,” John explains. “Only stuck. Big difference.”

“Minor technicality,” the First says with a wave of his hand. “It’s more than you deserve for that stunt you pulled.”

Annoyance replaces the fear now. You cast John an exasperated look. “What did you do?” you scold.

He smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. “Outsmarted him,” he says. “With my superior wit...and alcohol.”

“You robbed me of that man’s soul!” The First snarls, getting to his feet.

“Clauses can be a tricky thing,” John says, shrugging. “It wasn’t my fault you failed to collect his soul at exactly midnight. Now he’s dancing in the clouds. Shame.”

The First glares darkly. “You also robbed me of Jasmine Fell’s soul, while we’re on the subject,” he growls through clenched teeth.

“Anton told you then, did he?” John mutters. “Also a shame. Should have let Chas kill the blighter when we had the chance.”

The First scoffs at the mention of his associate. “Anton has been dealt with. No one breaks a deal with me. No one. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him on your way in,” he says. “You really stirred up him and his friends.”

You hold back the tremors threatening to consume you. “We just want to get home,” you say, keeping your voice steady.

The First studies you intently. It’s almost like he’s truly seeing you for the first time, and you don’t like it. However, you’re proud that you don’t buckle under his gaze. He takes a few steps in your direction, but John puts himself between the both of you.

If the First was curious about the nature of your relationship, that one movement clears it all up. “Oh, I see,” he says after a moment. “Hmm, interesting.”

“What?” you ask, moving out from behind John. He grabs the back of your jacket to keep you from walking too far in front of him.  

“Nothing,” the First answers, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“No, no, finish your thought,” you urge.

“Lola…” John warns.

“You picked an interesting choice in a mate, Constantine,” the First tells him, ignoring you once more.

“We’re not here to discuss my love life,” John responds, pulling you back to stand next to him.

“But while we’re here, let’s do just that,” the First suggests. He starts to pace, almost like a lawyer questioning a witness. “You’ve been in my kingdom for how long?”

“A year,” John answers. “A whole bloody year.”

Something akin to surprise flickers across the First’s face and he looks annoyed at the revelation.

“You didn’t know we were here,” you realize out loud. A small chuckle escapes. “This entire time, and you had no clue we were here. Not until we got closer.”

John nods in agreement. “Caught that did you, love?”

The First does not look impressed with your detective skills. “A year in Hell, just the two of you,” he continues. “That has given you two a lot of time to bond. I’m sure you must have discussed all sorts of things. Tell me, Constantine, have you told her what happened at Ravenscar? Or are you saving that for the honeymoon?”

Ravenscar. The asylum. You knew John spent some time there after the situation with Astra. John never talks about it and you love him enough not to push him. He has his past and you have yours. There’s some stuff you just don’t want to talk about and he hasn’t forced the issue. Of course you would extend him the same courtesy.

“I haven’t asked,” you say.

“Ah, but you’ve wondered,” the First says. “You’ve been curious.”

Alright, yeah you’re curious. But quite honestly it’s not the First’s place to tell you what happened to John. If John wants to reveal it to you, then he will. Your resolve doesn’t waver. You can feel John’s appreciation.

“Enough of that now,” John says. “So, how about that way out?”

“You never told her what you went through while you were locked away? What the staff did to the man they thought murdered that innocent little girl?” The First tuts disapprovingly. “And they say love will set you free. Humans. You keep everything bottled up inside and then wonder why know one loves you. How can they love the real you when you don’t show it to them?”

Anxiety flares within John and you chance a look at his face. His mouth is drawn in a straight line. Whatever the First is referring to, John is trying desperately not to think about.

“I believe the gentleman asked you a question,” you tell the First. “The way out, if you please.”

“No, I don’t please,” the First snaps. “And what about you, ‘Lola’. Or should I call you by your real name? Maybe one of your other aliases? I believe you were going by Marjorie, was it, before you met John. Your runes and tattoos can only shield you so much, darling. My, my, there are many skeletons in your closet just begging to be freed.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you growl. Your anger is getting the better of you and you’re having trouble trying to contain it. You’re hungry, tired, sore, beaten and bruised. You’re done playing games. You just want to get the information you need.

John uses the connection to calm you. However when he does, the First twitches a little, cocking his head to the side as if listening for something. He stares intently at both of you, and a look of understanding passes across his face.

“Oh, now where did that come from?” he mutters to himself.

The connection. He must be talking about the connection. He can sense it. You're not surprised considering who you're dealing with.

“Magic,” John answers. “Powerful magic.”

“Magic that helped you survive in my kingdom for so long,” the First says. “Magic you both are relying heavily on. You for the healing properties and her for the energy. And what's funny is that neither of you even realize it.”

Now you're confused. John is too. He doesn't let it show however.

“Look, mate,” he interrupts the First’s musings. “We can stand here and go back and forth all day, but frankly, I’m bloody knackered. And you’re stalling.”

It never occurred to you that he would be. He’s the First of the Fallen. Why does he need to stall? Unless he really doesn't have the power to keep you there. Then he might stall for backup.

“Waiting for the others to join us?” you ask, following John’s train of thought.

The First doesn’t look impressed. He crosses the distance between you two. John pushes you away just as the First seizes him by the neck. You take half a step forward before John raises his hand to stop you.

“I could kill him right now and take both your souls,” the First sneers. “And there’s nothing you could do to stop me.”

“On the contrary,” John says. “You have no claim to her soul. Touched by Heaven, she is. You take her soul without a deal and you’ll bring the Almighty down on you faster than you can say ‘oops’.”

Well that's good to know. The thought never crossed your mind. You never considered the fact that your soul being in Heaven for so long had actually meant anything. Other than it was really shitty having to deal with the aftermath of knowing what true peace feels like.  

“You also can’t take John’s soul without a deal,” you add.

“That’s not entirely true, is it, John?” The First asks. “See you denied me two souls. And while I can’t take hers, I can certainly take yours.”

Shit. God damn it, John.

Your brain is racing as you attempt to come up with another solution. It seems John has already thought of one. You feel your stomach churn as John’s magic creeps towards you. He wants to do something. Something dark. But he’s holding back. You told him no dark magic on you and he's being surprisingly respectful. Then there's also the issue of him not having enough energy by himself. You appreciate it. However, desperate times, right? Also, you never said you wouldn’t do dark magic on him. Thankfully, you have just enough energy. You take his spell and follow through with it without hesitation, pulling the Latin words from his head. Which is how you find yourself in John’s body while John stumbles into yours.

This of course means the First’s hand around your neck now.

The First feels the magic and his grip tightens painfully. “What did you do, Constantine?” he demands of you.

“I’m over here now,” John says, raising his hand. John’s signature smirk looks strange on your face. It’s weird to hear your voice speaking when you haven’t said anything. It’s even weirder to see yourself from another perspective. You know it’s you, but you hardly recognize yourself. You look tired and sickly. Though not as thin as you thought. Certainly not as thin as John.

The First’s shakes you roughly. “Switch back!” he snarls.

“No,” you manage to say. “And there's nothing you can do about it.”

“See, here’s the thing,” John says. “She’s in my body, and since you can’t touch her soul, you can’t kill my body. She’s protecting it. On the flip side, I’m in her body, granted not in the way I’m used to.” Somehow you still manage to roll your eyes. “You can’t kill her body because, again, touched by Heaven.”

The First is angry. With a yell he throws you and you fly across the room, hitting the contracting wall. You gasp as the wind gets knocked out of you. Your lungs feel like they're ready to explode, but you can't catch your breath. Well, John's lungs. He really needs to stop smoking.

“Lola!” John runs to your side.

A few feet away, the First is fuming. You realize with sick joy that he doesn’t know what to do.

“You can’t take our souls,” you pant through the pain, getting to your feet with a wince and the help of John. “And we’re not dead. You can either send us home, or we can go right back outside and fuck up your kingdom some more, your choice.”

You can see the moment the First makes his decision. You and John have done a lot of damage in the past year. Damage the First will have to clean up. He can't take your soul and through a simple technicality, he can't take John's either.

“I will send you back home,” he finally declares angrily, eyes filled with hatred. “But, mark my words, John Constantine. Your soul and life will be mine.” An eerie smile crosses his face. “Sooner than you realize. I'm a patient man. I can wait.”

John touches your hand and you find yourself back in your body as the spell wears off. You try not to react so that the First doesn’t notice the change.

The ground beneath your feet shakes and suddenly black energy envelops your feet, spreading up your legs. John’s grip on your hand slips away as it happens to him as well, making him stumble slightly. But you don't feel happy about going back. Because you’re not entirely sure if that’s even where he’s sending you. You struggle against the spell, but it does no good. You can’t move. So you stop and resign yourself to whatever your fate may be. You hold your breath, waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop.

The First turns his back on the both of you, walking back to his throne. After a few seconds however, he stops and turns back. “Oh, just one more thing,” he says. “I’ll be taking this.” He extends his hand towards you before closing it into a fist.

Your heart suddenly explodes with pain, forcing a scream out of you. It’s happening to John as well. You can feel it two fold and if you could use your hands, you’d probably try to scratch your heart out to keep it from hurting so much. John’s screams make your blood curdle and tears start to fall down your cheeks. The excruciating pain builds and builds to a frightening crescendo. The black energy starts to creep up your chest and then suddenly, it’s like something snaps inside of you.

In an instant, the pain is gone and you’re left gasping, crying and sweating. “What...did you...do?” you manage to ask.

“Give it back!” John screams, making you surprised. You weren’t expecting it. Usually you feel his anger before it explodes.

Wait.

You can’t feel him. At all. Nothing. Not a single emotion or a thought. The connection is gone and all you’re left with is the feeling that you just lost half of yourself.

“It was a pleasure, Lola,” the First says, fading from your vision as the black energy starts to cover your face. “Let’s hope you put your faith in the right man.”

Your eyes meet John’s terrified ones, barely visible through the darkness engulfing him. His mouth moves but you drown in the darkness before you can hear what he’s trying to say.

**Author's Note:**

> The song John sings is from Venus of the Hardsell and it was also in Daniel Cerone’s script for what would have been the 14th episode of Constantine. https://t.co/Tbqy7xikGA
> 
> Also I did a fan vid of John & Lola cuz I was bored a few months ago: https://youtu.be/xCpxs3J0ktU?list=PLy2ui-9somiPdQo4pRvD2iPl5dQSBTguX


End file.
